


Baby Got Back(Stroke)

by koolranchkidz



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Rivalry, Slow Burn, Swimming AU, everybody., guess whos insecure!, rivals to friends/lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 11:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11759085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koolranchkidz/pseuds/koolranchkidz
Summary: + AU Where Even's the top swimmer on his last season, and Isak's the dark horse who's just been bumped up an age group and is ready to give Even a run for his money.In between each spoonful of sugary cereal, Even adjusted the icepacks laid on his sore legs. These nights were the kind of thing Even had grown used to over time. The pleasant exhaustion, the carnage that his body would endure afterwards. All the usual stuff.There was an ever-present drop of water lodged deep in his left ear and he was growing a beautiful collection of bruises along his shins from hopping in and out of the pool. Even would always smell of chlorine, no matter how hard he tried to shower it away. His landlord always complained about wet floors, how they were hardwood, and how Even ‘would be paying for the damage’. But the hardships came with benefits, too, because the pool water had majorly improved his teenage acne.You win some, you lose some.





	Baby Got Back(Stroke)

**Author's Note:**

> ******I quit writing lol sorry it was fun while it lasted old notes below
> 
> Hi oops I've started another WIP. This one takes place in a spooky alternate universe where swimming is more popular in Norway. Which I know is unrealistic with how cold it is there but whatever. 
> 
> Anyway I don't have a beta so if there are any terrible mistakes, tell me, and if you're up for the job we'll talk. If anything is offensive lemme no or if you have constructive criticism its welcome. Nice things are welcome and encouraged, too though. Make sure to sub if you want because I don't update all that regularly 
> 
> trigger warnings in end notes

It was the night before Even’s next big competition and he was sat on his one-bedroom flat’s purple couch, nursing a big bowl of Coco Puffs and watching the local nightly news. Nursing –more like shoveling the cereal in his face while he fiddled with the volume on his remote.

He had two more swim meets to go before the Olympic qualifier preliminaries, so according to coach Juarez, he should have been ‘watching his diet’ and ‘staying out of trouble’, but at this point in his career, Even just couldn’t bring himself to care about that stuff as much as he used to.

After all, when Even inevitably stopped swimming -which he _would_ \- there would always be the option of becoming a coach. The sweet, sweet relief of finally getting to tell some _other_ poor kid to do a 800 IM while he’d get to sit there drinking his expensive coffee concoctions and basking in somebody else’s success. It really _did_ sound like a nice trade, to be honest.

Maybe someday. Hopefully someday soon, because if the upcoming season was to go the way Juarez planned, Even would get to make his metaphorical victory lap and retire. Maybe he’d get a proper job like a normal person should, make some easy money. No matter what though, Even promised himself coaching was miles away.

Swimming had always been a young man’s game. And in his early 20’s, Even had a long time to swim as a ‘young man’. He’d begun swimming competitively when he was really little. _Five_ , actually. His mom would always drive him to practice, cheer him on at meets, and while she couldn’t get the time off work to come to all his competitions, his other mom would shower him with praise when she got home and stick his ribbons to the fridge.

Even hit a kind of rough patch after he moved out. Money was tight and his situation wasn’t made any better by all his impulsive online shopping sprees. He was in a really bad place with himself for a while there, but he was better now. _Better_. Even had been living in his cheap flat for about a year, paying his rent and utilities with prize money and whatever was left of his ‘college fund’. He got endorsed by a few key companies through his career, but not much to write home about. It was usually just a small patch sewn onto his jacket and some product placement at press talks, then he could afford his shitty cereal.

Every wall of his apartment was covered in dingy white and his furniture was just a hodge-podge of old stuff he’d found at yard sales and Ikea, most of which were the same shade of dingy white as the walls, too. It wasn’t his dream home, but it was alright for the time being. Even didn’t have the money for his dream home anyways since he preferred to spend his money on useless novelty shit and fashion, rather than other useless decorations or _real_ food.

In between each spoonful of sugary cereal, Even adjusted the icepacks laid on his sore legs. These nights were the kind of thing Even had grown used to over time. The pleasant exhaustion, the carnage that his body would endure afterwards. All the usual stuff.

There was an ever-present drop of water lodged deep in his left ear and he was growing a beautiful collection of bruises along his shins from hopping in and out of the pool. Even would always smell of chlorine, no matter how hard he tried to shower it away. His landlord always complained about wet floors, how they were hardwood, and how Even ‘would be paying for the damage’.

But the hardships came with benefits, too, because the pool water had majorly improved his teenage acne. You win some, you lose some.

**“ _Coming up in the next segment we have news about Oslo’s new up-and-coming top swimmer AND an interview with the boy himself. We’ll talk with Isak Valtersen in five minutes!”_**

Even’s attention came back to the TV when he heard the chirpy anchor’s words, only for the screen to go to commercials. _Up-and-coming? Top swimmer? Who now?_

He just knew Juarez wasn’t gonna like this. She’d probably expect him to be able beat the guy by 10 seconds after morning practice if he knew her well enough. And Even knew that crazy woman _well_. He also knew that her desire to win outweighed her love for him, which was saying something considering he was totally her favorite.

Even readjusted the ice on his shins right as the screen lit up again with the local news logo and his living room filled with the sound of their little jingle. He reached for his remote and turned the volume up, leaning forward to watch intently.

 ** _“Hi and welcome back to NOR5 at 20:20!...”_** The screen flashed away from the anchor and to a wide shot of some unfamiliar pool, the water clear and undisturbed. She kept talking.

**_“…sure if you’re on the swimming scene here in Oslo that you’ve heard the name of this extraordinarily talented boy. Isak Valtersen has risen to semi-fame following his Boy’s 15-18 Competition just two weeks ago after coming close –off by half a second– to matching Oslo’s current top swimmer Even Bech Naesheim’s time for the infamous 100 Freestyle!..”_ **

Even felt his eyes widen. _What? This kid was in the 15-18’s? How the fuck?_

**_“We’ve recently heard from his coach, Coach Tryggvason, that he has, in fact, been bumped up an age group and will compete with the 18 and Over’s tomorrow…”_ **

The screen cut away from the anchor yet again to show a slideshow of pictures. First came a picture of a lanky ginger guy wearing a hat and jacket, presumably Coach Tryggvason, and a young blonde boy, _Isak_. They were smiling up at the camera and Tryggvason had his arm around Isak’s towel-wrapped middle. It made Even feel nice just to see how happy they looked. It reminded him of his family.

The next picture looked like that of a professional action shot. It showed Isak, clad in a tight black swimming suit, in the middle of his starting dive. Even didn’t get to look at the picture for long because it was quickly replaced with one of Isak standing in front of a wall decked out with 1st place ribbons and shelves of trophies.

He looked older in the photo, his cheeks less chubby but still featuring those adorable dimples. Even could also tell by the boy’s stiff, a bit hunched posture that something was off. His smile looked less bright, less comfortable.

The last photo came on at the same time as the anchor started chirping out. A scanned polaroid of Isak holding onto a pretty brunette and kissing her cheek.

**_“…aweeee isn’t that one just so cute? Wonder what Isak’s girl thinks of his newfound fame. If that were me on his arm I’d be ecstatic…”_ **

Sure, they were cute. Even would give them that, but he couldn’t get past how different Isak had looked from the first picture they’d shown. He knew it was useless to read into all of it, though, so he brought his attention back, just realizing he still had the remote clutched tight in his hand. He set it down.

**_“And here he is! The man of the hour! Isak, how does it feel to be among the greats?”_ **

And there he was, Adidas jacket, damp hair, green, green eyes. Even couldn’t stop looking at him. Isak towered over the anchor, his chin level with the top of her teased blonde hair. He had a small grin on his face and he seemed to be considering something.

**“It feels good –a little nerve racking, but good. Yeah…”**

_His voice. Fuck._

**_“Yeah? Now –We’re all wondering. –How DID you manage come so close to Even Bech Naesheim’s record time? At seventeen no less? Surely that took some major training.”_ **

That record time that Even had set, he’d only just set last season as a twenty year old. And Isak was on his level at seventeen? Slander.

Even knew for a fact that he wasn’t in the same shape as he was last season, and he could only hope that Isak’s success was just a one-off. He knew it was dumb to hope a kid like that would fail, but Juarez would hand him his ass on a silver plate if he lost to a _seventeen_ year old. But hey, maybe the two of them, Isak and Even, could be friends anyway. He seemed nice enough, cute and charming, maybe a little awkward. But definitely pretty. The prettiest face Even had seen in a while.

 **“Lots of training –And help from Eskild. Yeah. I think a lot of it was luck, too, though. There are always incentives to be better, so I make sure to try my best.”** Isak looked at the ground, chuckling.

The anchor lady raised her eyebrows suggestively and looked back at the camera.

 ** _“Sounds like someone’s ‘incentives’ come in human form. Huh? Tell me Isak, what does your pretty lady think of all this?”_** She gestured around.

Even noticed how Isak seemed to stiffen at the question, his expression going blank for a small moment as he looked off camera at something. Even took another spoonful into his mouth,

**“Heh ha, yeah, um… Sara –She quite likes all the publicity. So do my friends, actually. They said I should’ve taken them to this interview cause ‘I might not be able to hear you with all the water in my ears’.”**

_That_ made Even crack a smile over his half empty bowl. He shifted his weight on his couch cushion and looked back at the screen; at Isak.

**_“Haha maybe they were right. Hey it was nice talking with you, Isak! And good luck tomorrow at your meet! Say hi to Sara for us!”_ **

_Jesus lady are we still on that?_

**“Heh, yeah. Nice talking to you, too. Thanks”**

The ginger guy from the first picture came up next to Isak and pulled on his arm, which prompted him to wave hurriedly at the camera. Just like that, his pretty face was gone.

**_“Well isn’t he just the best? That’s all I have. Back to you, Barry-”_ **

The anchor lady was cut off by Even turning his TV off. He threw the remote down and stood up, hearing his knees click as he did so.

Even thought about Isak as he washed dishes. He thought about him when he brushed his teeth. And he even thought about him before falling asleep. He probably dreamt about the boy, too, if he were able to remember it in the morning.

There was just something about him that Even couldn’t seem to place. Something big. Or maybe something tiny. Something off but inviting, yet.

He made Even feel like maybe, he could crack the code; solve the mystery.

 

.

 

The double doors creaked as the they opened to let light from the pool building’s hallway into the dimmer main pool. The room was empty except for a figure sitting lazily in a pink blow-up floaty chair to the far left.

Even stepped past the doors, throwing them open with full force and hearing them clank against the brick walls. Once inside, he stood in a dramatic pose with his legs apart and his arms out from his sides as far as he could reach.

The light coming from behind made his face hardly visible; his triumphant, wide smile shadowy. Even had arrived at the pool for his 6:30 morning practice decked out in his most ridiculous clothes. He wore an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt that overlapped his tight black swimsuit. Over that was a white fluffy faux-fur coat that came all the way down to the bend of his knees. On his feet he wore white ankle socks under his prized knock-off Gucci slides.

The weed patterned bucket hat on his head was a last minute addition to his ensemble, however. In fact, he had almost forgotten about it, but he found it in a pile of towels by his front doorway. Like most of his novelty fashion items, Mikael gave it to him.

That kid had some serious issues he needed to work through. Or maybe it was all the Baz movies he’d seen. _I mean, a 24-pack of glittery dick-shaped straws? C’mon._

“Naesheim, take off that clusterfuck of bad decisions and get in the pool. We have a schedule, you know.” Coach Juarez yelled from her spot in the calm water. She had her eyes set back onto her phone within a second, said phone was tucked inside two clear snack bags. It was a pretty smart idea, he’d have to try that.

Ever since he was a young teen, Even began trying on different swim coaches, from one to the next, until he found a nice fit. Not perfect, but still good. That’s exactly how he ended up with Juarez.

Coach Juarez was probably the shortest person Even had aver gotten the privilege of knowing, but what she lacked in height, she made up for with her ambition and killer resolve.

She seemed like she was born to intimidate everyone she met, with black hair that Even bet was dyed, highly arched eyebrows, and a nasty habit of rolling her eyes. Juarez sort of reminded him of his high school friend’s little sister, who he’d only seen a few times, but enough to catch the similarities.

Even had made the rookie mistake of telling her a short-joke, and nope, she really didn’t like that. She brought thunder down on him at practice the week after.

Once, another client of hers had managed to convince Even that Juarez could kill a wolf with her bare hands. Needless to say, he had some nightmares after that.

Even had somewhat of a tradition on competition days. He’d always do something to surprise Coach, whether that be wearing something stupid before taking it off to practice and ending up getting glares from the pool staff, or buying a cake from the local bakery and having some innocent worker frost the lyrics to Get’cha Head In The Game on it and presenting the cake to her. One time he actually bought out an entire pool supply store of their floaty noodles and then proceeded to throw them across the pool’s entire surface before practice.

In his defense, it _was_ pretty fun to jump into a huge pool of noodles.

It was all mostly just a way of keeping moral high and spicing things up, like a little kid acting out to keep themselves busy. Or to get attention from their parents. Even did it for both.

These days though, since Juarez had gotten so used to Even’s shit, it was getting harder to get a reaction from her.

“Aw you’re no fun anymore!” Even smiled brightly at her, pulling his sunglasses off. He shrugged out of the coat, taking off his other clothes in quick succession, making sure to wink at Juarez before hopping in.

The water was a good temperature; not too cold but not warm either. It was calm and empty enough for Even to shred through with ease.

He fixed his dangling goggles onto his eyes, listening to Juarez’s orders. “Okay blondie. Gimme a 400 warm-up. First 200 breast, next one free. Go go go!”

With that, Even gulped the biggest breath of air he could and pushed off the wall to start his swim.

Throughout practice, Juarez gave him a lot of what she’d call pep talks, but what Even would call ‘bitching about his opponents and yelling at him about how much better he was’. That’s not to a say her talks weren’t motivating though, because they weirdly were.

There’s nothing like a 5 foot tall lady on an inflatable chair telling your ‘You’re a fucking SWAN!!’ through a megaphone, on a Monday morning. It really wake you up.

“I did some research on your pretty new enemy and apparently he struggles with starting dives. Also-“ She said through bites of a protein bar. “-free isn’t even his main stroke, its breaststroke.”

Even knew breaststroke wasn’t _his_ best, fly and free being his main two, so the news only added to his stress. And that if he thought logically, Isak would beat him out for breast and _possibly_ back, too, but Even knew he could still win for fly and free, maybe snag second for the others. He was certain.

They worked on some of the issues he had with breaststroke and back, then moved on to deconstructing his flip turns. Before cool-downs, Juarez had him run through his IM a few more times even though he didn’t need to, and then told him about her victory celebration plans. In other words: it was a much milder practice than most.

Even patted a towel down his back and wrapped it around his waist after climbing out of the water. His legs felt like noodles and the bend of his armpit was growing a kind of sore feeling he knew well after all his years. Even’s breaths were still coming out quickly and labored, no matter how mild the practice was compared to ones before.

After helping Coach off her raft and onto the deck, not forgetting to collect his discarded outfit, they made their way out, pulling the doors open and walking down the hall.

Even was wrapped up tight in his special extra-large towel as he tried to multitask and zip his gym bag and push the fur coat inside at the same time. He felt cold, not because of the outside air, but from burning off all his energy in the pool. Even always felt pleasantly cold after a good practice. It gave him a sort of a high he couldn’t describe, like his body was giving him proof that he moved.

“Need help there?” Juarez nudged him in the side. She continued checking thing off on her clipboard while they walked to the locker room.

“What? No, I’ve got it.” Even gave one last push, catching the fur in his bag’s zipper. “Almost”

Coach pushed a stray lock of dark hair out of her eyes with her pen, then finally looked up at Even. He gave her a waiting look since he wanted to know her predictions, if he had some issues other than the usual. She responded with an amused sigh.

“Honey Bunny-“

“Don’t call me that!” Even pleaded. She smirked.

“Shut it –Honey, I know what you want to hear.” Juarez continued. “What you wanna hear is: _Even, Even, ohmygod you did sooooo well! I really think you’ll win this one! Pay no attention to the fucking news, you’ll be just perrrfect! Oh, I love you so much, sign my face!!”_ She said, the most sarcastically Even had ever heard.

“Well, and while I do love you –to a certain extent, don’t flatter yourself- I wont be saying that shit. I don’t need to puff your ego, Honey Bunny” She told him, poking his chest with her pen. Even batted it away. "You do that all on your own."

“I’m going to treat this meet like any other, okay? And I suggest you do, too, because whether you’re super nervous or overconfident or like, have swine flu, the outcome will be the same. You’ll suck!” Juarez chastised. “And we don’t want that, okay? Happy middle. That’s what we want –And don’t get too cocky, alright. You’re the best around here but that doesn’t mean you have to _know about it_.”

Even smiled and nodded. They were still standing outside the men’s locker room, and he was dripping water on the floor. Even didn’t process more than half of what she said, mostly just ‘I love you’ ‘treat this meet like any other’ ‘don’t flatter yourself’ ‘you’ll suck!’ and ‘swine flu’, but he was sure he’d get the message in a few minutes.

This particular post-practice chat had been a lot more colorful than others, so Even took that to mean what she had said was important. Even if it was important and all that, though, she still hadn’t told him if he did well. Not even a ‘Good luck’ for the road.

“Michelle-“

“Don’t call me that!” She evil-eyed him. Even laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Coach, I don’t really know if I should say _thanks_ to that, or like, _affirmative chief_ –Was this even a pep talk?- Whatever. But don’t worry” He searched for the words she’d used, a few full sentences from his coach’s speech that stood out as orders.

“I’m not nervous. I definitely don’t have swine flu. I’m my normal level of cocky. And I promise I’ll stay in this ‘happy middle’ if it means you’ll still love me”, he recited out to his coach, who looked satisfied if slightly irritated, maybe a little amused.

Juarez started walking away and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He watched her turn around after a few steps away.

“I’ll see you tonight, Even” She looked down at his legs then back up. “And ice those shins, it looks like you’ve been mugged.”

Even grinned. “Right. Ice. Happy middle. Got it, Michelle!” He teased as he waved a pruned, damp hand.

Coach Juarez stopped dead in her tracks, turning her glaring face his way, and pointed her finger at him.

“Thin ice, Bech Naesheim.”

 

.

 

When he got to the meet that night, a huge crowd was already forming in the standing and on the floor. Even had to take his earbuds out almost every 10 seconds to talk to all the random people coming up to him before he finally just gave up on the music. Which was a bummer because he really liked having music to get pumped to before he would get in the water for some warm up laps.

He could hear insolent chatter going around the whole place, with nobody settled down to watch yet, and what was either soundcheck or pure rambling coming from the announcers booth. People were everywhere, knocking into him, nagging his ears off, cheering him on. It was easy to deal with in moderation but fuck, Even felt like he was about to be crushed alive. And he wasn’t even a claustrophobic person.

So he snuck away to the bathroom to get away from it all. It was probably due to the recent news story that this meet was more popular, all the press coverage. Who knew what was going on about it online.

Even spent as long as he could in the bathroom as he could before his phone blew up with texts from Coach. He hadn’t even seen her yet and the swimmers were already five minutes away from warm ups.

The music helped a little. He only got two songs in, but the beats helped his nerves mold into something more manageable. Really though, all Even did in the bathroom was splash some water on his face, stretch his shoulders, and punch dance, _which_ he did with finesse and style, okay?

He eventually made his way back up the hallway, through the tunnel, and down part of the walkway behind the stands before his body collided with someone.

After the initial shock faded away, Even looked in the direction he felt the person come from and sure enough, there he was.

Only- they were kneeling down on the floor, and it looked like they –he- was picking something up. The boy’s golden hair covered his face so all Even could see of him were his bare shoulders.

When he stood up, his eyes were a few inches below level with Even’s and Even locked onto the sight of them the second he saw them. His eyes were like big, green, doe eyes, with long, dark, fluttery eyelashes dusting the top of his cheeks when Even saw him blink.

Then, Even blinked as well. And that’s when he recognized the boy he’d run into.

Isak Valtersen stood in front of him, holding his goggles and cap in one hand. He was only in his suit, a black one that went all the way to his ankles. He looked good in it, really good. Even thought he looked even better than he had in that TV interview. The screen didn’t even _nearly_ do him justice, not when the real thing was standing right there –and Even really shouldn’t be staring at his body anymore.

It was time to access the situation, however.

Even had just accidently (and quite literally) run into his new competitor. _Oops_.

He shook his head and thought instead about how they might become friends after this. Maybe they could be Oslo’s Dream Duo?

“Sorry about that, was in a bit of a hurry.” Even apologized, smiling pathetically at the boy, who seemed to jump when he heard Even’s voice. Isak straightened his back visibly and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s fine.”

The way he was standing looked sort of… defensive? Even couldn’t find a reason why. But hey, he was the guy’s competitor, wasn’t he? Maybe Isak was scared of him. Even didn’t want _anyone_ to be scared of him. So he smiled more confidently and held his hand out to the boy.

“Um, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Even!” He cheered.

Isak passed his goggles and cap to his other hand before he smirked and took Even’s hand firmly, giving it a shake before dropping it like something burning. Even didn’t even have time to feel how soft Isak’s hand felt in his before it was gone.

“Isak.” He chuckled. “A pleasure to finally beat you.”

Isak grinned again and stepped past him and Even’s head turned unconsciously to follow.

“Wait, did you say-“ Even started, but he was interrupted by a shrill voice from behind.

The same lanky ginger guy came bounding over with a clipboard identical to Juarez’s waving in his hand. “Isak! You only have two minutes, wait!!”

He turned to Even, shaking his head with an ‘Ugh’. “I swear, these kids. Just because they’re beautiful they think rules don’t apply.”

Even looked at they guy, who’s name just came to him –Coach Tryggvason. He didn’t look anywhere near thirty, and he was talking about Isak like his grandchild.

“Aren’t you my age?” Even blurted. Coach Tryggvason finally looked at him and squeaked.

“Even! Speaking of beautiful! But no, I take my skincare seriously. I’m but a graceful forty”, he chirped. “Just kidding! Fifty. Still kidding. A gentleman never reveals his age, you know.”

Even laughed at his ramblings, then looked around at the almost empty walkway. The pool was starting to quiet down, so that could only mean he didn’t have much time to get to Juarez. He looked behind him again, finding Isak nowhere in sight, before turning back to Eskild, who seemed to register the situation, too.

“Well I’ve gotta chase down a rogue teenager, duty calls! Good luck youngster.” Eskild shook his head and strode away, his walking pace becoming a jog as he turned the corner.

That’s when the speakers sounded with a buzzing sound above him, echoing through the entire place.

“Men’s 20 And Over Warm-Ups in lanes 1-10, you may enter the water.” The announcer called.

Even ran the rest of the way to his spot.

**Author's Note:**

> Song - On The News, Keaton Henson 
> 
> TW: strong language, brief mention of claustrophobia
> 
> You're welcome to yell at me or be my friend at my [tumblr](https://koolranchkidz.tumblr.com)
> 
> I will be adding the spotify playlist that i listened to while writing once this is up (and once if cleaned it all up a bit)
> 
> Lemme know if you like, I plan on actually responding and being more active now that school started and my job is over.
> 
> ALSO the 'pleasure to finally beat you' bit i definitely stole from the cars 3 trailer. In fact, that's the whole thing that this is based on. Yep, all this so I could use that one line from a pixar movie. Im a true literary genius..


End file.
